I said no at first when she asked me to come to the synagogue Friday night.
I wasn’t ready, had to do laundry, take a shower, shave, all before no time had passed. But I decided I should at least try to embrace life. Maybe I would meet someone.
Of course, I could go another time.But maybe the person I needed to meet would only be there that night. Mostly moms and shit, anyway, so whoever might be would be rare and obvious. Chick rabbi a possibility.
In my mind.
So, I threw stuff (not good enough but the best I had) into the washer and took a shower and shaved. And cut my head up.
And didn’t go.
Couldn’t. Not with a blood-capped head.
Had grappled with the whole thing anyway, maybe going was desperate. Be methodical, right? Everything in its time.
But then I’ve used that as an…
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